Palm Sunday Is Not the Answer

Sunday, March 28, 2021 • Palm / Passion Sunday
Reading: Mark 11:1-11 (New Revised Standard Version)
Pastor Alexis Lillie

Giuliano Ferri


Any time I've been involved with a protest, march, rally, any kind of community organizing really, there's always that awkward moment where everyone just… walks away. There has been all this energy, often yelling, chanting. A crowd of people galvanized around an issue. And then we all just disperse!

But after reading the last line of our text for today – I guess we were in good company?  Because the author tells us about Jesus, "it was late, he went out." This is what Jesus did at the end of his protest!

And it is a protest. Scholars tell us that there were likely two processions, at or around the same time. This one, and an imperial procession, honoring Pilate, the governor. At least, people would have been familiar with a Roman procession. And I’m sure you can imagine what that would have been like – definitely not on a donkey with coats on the ground!

I was taught the Palm Sunday story as the “Triumphal Entry” – in a very serious way. As in, it really was triumphal. But in this reading, where it’s placed in contradiction to Roman processions, there is a high level of humor here!

This is intentional – it was a protest, it was done to counteract the imperial marches of Rome. To stand over and against the "domination system" that was all too common (is all too common?). A system where power and wealth were concentrated with a relative few, and oppression and extortion flowed to most everyone else.

And, it’s a protest to stand against imperial theology – Augustus, the emperor of Rome, was a "Son of God" and had his own divine mythology surrounding him. So in the end, I guess the way I was taught Palm Sunday wasn't entirely wrong. It was triumphal in the sense that... the story triumphs! Here we are, still talking about Jesus, on a donkey!

The procession may have been comical, even intentionally comical. But I certainly don't mean that the farce in any way took away from the passion of the marchers. They are literally crying out SAVE US (hosanna). That isn't the cry of people who are joking around. No, they have come to this protest march with serious needs, fears, and hopes.

Who are you in the crowd? What feelings could you imagine bringing? I think I’m one of the organizers. I like organized chaos, and I like having a birds-eye view to what's going on! Maybe you’re in the procession. Maybe you’re the donkey! Maybe you’re the person who owned the donkey – I always wondered about them, do they even get the donkey back?!

What are you feeling? Maybe it's similar to what you've felt when you've protested - in any capacity - for something. A mix of hope, and fear, and collective energy. For many of us, perhaps, there is a sneaking suspicion that this won't really work.

It’s hard to even give voice to this suspicion. But I have to imagine we aren't alone in this fear. I have to imagine there were some in the crowd -- maybe even Jesus himself --who were really wondering about the efficacy of this protest. We’re about to take this holy week journey together, and I don’t want to spoil it… but they were kind of right. The one they hoped will be their "hosanna," ... he ends up dead.

And yet, even if they could see that eventuality on the horizon, here they are in the streets. Meeting the domination system with their anger, and hope, and vision of what could be possible.

Here we are continuing this ancient legacy. Continuing to rise up against our own systems of domination, protesting things like:

    • The Iraq war

    • Occupy Wall Street

    • gay rights

    • prison reform

    • healthcare

    • DACA and immigration

    • women's rights

    • black lives matter and racial justice

    • gun control

    • treatment of all people of color, including AAPI

These are just the things that have been galvanizing, that I’ve acted out for in my lifetime! And I certainly don't have the long-term credentials that many of you do. Honestly yes, each time I engage, it's with that little pit in my stomach: this probably won't "work." In some places there has been movement and change to be sure, and I don’t want to discount that. But often it can feel like 1 step forward, 20 steps back. 

Where do we go with this feeling? This deep-seated fear that I don't even really want to give voice to?

I can answer that with another question: What happens if we don't? If we don't take that one step forward in the face of imperial power coming at us in full force?

If we don't find the donkey, throw down our coats, and wave tree branches while screaming for salvation?

What is the price for NOT speaking truth to power??

I don't mean this in a defeatist way: "well I guess I have to do it because what are my other options??" I also don't mean this in a self-centered way, as if any one of us personally holds the key to unlocking societal change.

What I mean is... what are we as individuals and as a community going to lose by not standing up and crying out?

For me, what I lose is my sense inner alignment – of knowing I’m listening to that voice inside me I call the spirit. The voice that beckons me into the unknown on behalf of a vision of justice and love. The price of not taking the step is failing to live into my values even when I can see the looming destruction. Even when those 20 steps back look a lot like some kind of death.

This is kind of where Palm Sunday leaves us.

A call to take the step, to raise a fist in protest, even when deep inside we're afraid it's futile. We're afraid we see death on the horizon. Palm Sunday doesn't really provide us any answers - not in the way *I* want anyway. Instead we get a dispersion of the energy of protest, and Jesus himself "going out," walking away.

And so, as we close, we go into this Holy Week, perhaps, with more questions than answers. Feeling the reality of the tension we live in - an ancient tension that speaks to both the necessity of meeting imperial power with protest... and the fear that our protest may not make a difference.

Let us not be afraid to let both the voice of protest, and the reality of our fear, rise within us.

Amen.



(c) Alexis James Waggoner 2021
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